Page 41 of Micah
MICAH
She’s pulling away from me, and I don’t know what to do. I watch the back of her head as we travel through the dark city, hoping she’ll look at me, but she won’t. There’s an ocean between us and I don’t know how to bridge it.
I should never have let the guys come. Her request for crutches interrupted a really fucking serious conversation, so I thought she’d appreciate the distraction that is my brothers. Plus, I want them to get to know her, to love her. But it feels like we’ve gone backwards, and all I want now is to get her back to my condo and rebuild the bubble we created today.
This wanting someone who doesn’t want you back shit is hell.
She lets me carry her into the condo. “Hold…tight,” I tell her as I use the hand supporting her back on the scanner to let us in. The guys follow, carrying bags of yarn and supplies. Declan wheels her scooter in. They say soft goodnights and leave quickly, Holly giving them small smiles as they go.
Then it’s just the two of us, her small frame still in my arms. She feels so right there, I wish she wouldn’t get better. But that’s fucked up, and I don’t really want that for her. I want her healed, but still happy to be carried around, like a fucking Queen. That would be perfect.
Shifting uncomfortably, I eyeball the door to her bedroom, then suck it up and take her in, settling her on her bed. “We were out late and Kathy couldn’t come later. You’re stuck with me tonight.What can I help you with?”
Her hands grip the mattress beside her hips. Her gaze sliding from me to the bathroom, and back again. “Ah…you’ve helped me to the bathroom before. Maybe just bring me some pyjamas and I can get changed myself.”
She’s beenin there for twenty minutes, and I’m ready to break the door down when she calls for me. I burst through in a Kramer worthy entrance, mentally kicking my own ass for my lack of cool, and find her still sitting on the toilet, tears in her eyes.
“Oh…Holly,” I crouch next to her. Her lounge pants are still on. She’s managed to pull the nightgown over her head, but it’s pooled at her waist. I put my hand on her knee, waiting for her to tell me what she needs.
She rubs her eyes angrily, “I’m so sick of being weak.”
I growl at her, “Not…weak.”
Her laugh is sarcastic. “I know who I am, Micah. You don’t know me. My whole life I’ve been quiet, meek, going along with what everyone else told me to do. It’s pathetic.”
I slide down the wall facing the toilet until I’m sitting. “Not…weak.” I say firmly. I’ll say it as many times as I need to until it sinks in. “We talked about this Holly. You are not weak. You’ve got a fucking backbone of steel woman. How can you not see that?”
“Right, so because you said it, it must be true? Because you’re a man and that means you know better?”
Oh fuck.
“That’s not what I meant.”Christ, she’s stewing for a fight.
“You’ve known me for two months. You know some parts of me. You know some of the crap I’ve been through. That doesn’t mean you know me.”
I draw my knees up, resting my arms on top of them. We study each other, her jaw locked and eyes tight.
“You’re right,”I admit. “I don’t know your whole life. But I’ve watched you at the garage. I couldn’t take my fucking eyes off you. And I see who you are out from under Brent's thumb. Can you allow for the possibility that you might be stronger than you think?”
“I can’t even stand up, Micah. My legs are shaking.” She says, biting off the words, launching them at me like little daggers.
“Over…did…it.” I mutter. “I should have told the guys no extra stops. I’m sorry. Your body’s been battered, you’re getting over a fucking concussion. I should know better.”Her mouth firms, another argument on the tip of her tongue.
“I…help?” I ask gently, heading her off. “Please. I need you to be comfortable.”
She finally nods, and I move the two feet separating us to kneel at her feet. She puts her hands on the grab bars around the toilet and lifts herself up. “Shoulders,” I tell her, waiting until she’s got a firm grip on me to move. I lock my eyes with hers, watching for any hint of panic as I pull the hem of her blue T-shirt nightgown down to her thighs. Once she’s covered, I run my palms up the side of her thighs until I reach the waistband of her pants. “Panties?” I choke out.
She tightens her hands on me. “I want them on.” Her voice is tense, the words wobbly.
I nod, then move my fingers into the waistband, running them back and forth until they’re between her panties and the pants. My knuckles are against the skin of her stomach and I swear I’ve never felt anything softer. Being this close to her, on my knees in front of her, I swear I can smell the sweet scent of her sex. I am so gone over this woman, I’m seconds from coming in my fucking pants. Again.
I have no self-control.
Watching her, I slowly pull her pants down, letting them pool to the floor on one leg, working the fabric carefully off the air cast on the other. “Step,” I mutter. She steps out of the fabric and I toss it into the shower stall next to us. “What…next?”
Her cheeks flush, her eyes focusing on my forehead. “I…I have to use the…”
I smile, “Boss…me…around.”
